You can overdose on almost anything: drugs, alcohol, talk radio, politics, religion. But there are fewer drugs that you can microdose on. Like the dolphin swimming 100 feet below you, you kind of have to sense the drug in your system, and how it’s making you feel. In other words, you have to connect your body with your mind, which is so simple in concept and hard to do in practice.

In my early 20’s, I was stupidly confident. That type of stupid confidence that leads you to say things to people that you regret in your 30’s, that type of stupid confidence that isn’t really confidence at all, but is more a symptom of overwhelming insecurity. The kind of confidence that whispers in your ear, just do it. Although I refer to this confidence as “stupid,” it actually led to a lot of interesting opportunities, many of which define who I am today.

+++ title = “10” date = 2019 +++ Driving down the road, I saw a sign next to a framing store that said “frame your puzzles.” They must have meant jigsaw, but when I hear the word puzzle, I think about the mysteries that surround me in life. How to frame these puzzles? The ones that keep us up at night, that confuse and befuddle us, that amaze us and terrify us?

+++ title = “10” date = 2019 +++ Scrolling through my Twitter feed, I ran across a tweet that ended with “PLEASE MAKE THIS GO VIRAL.” Whoever this person is, they don’t really understand how viruses work. If content goes viral, it happens nearly automatically, which means there was no need for the request in the first place. How many artists and entrepreneurs could save time if they just stopped asking for people to share things, and instead made things that people want to share?

My wife and I switch who’s on and off at night when we take care of our son. Some nights, she’s out exercising or seeing a friend while I’m chasing our toddler around the living room. And other nights, I’m writing or cooking or having dinner with someone while she’s bathing him. I like to write on the nights when I’m on not looking after him. But occasionally, the sound of joy leaks down into the basement and draws me up.